


Lovely, Deep, and Dark

by SunriseRose1023



Series: When You Come Back To Me Again [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Brain Surgery, Coma, Comatose Derek, Family Drama, Family Issues, Family Secrets, Gen, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Secrets, Serious Injuries, Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 18:25:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18998074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunriseRose1023/pseuds/SunriseRose1023
Summary: Your sister is scrambling to find a way to help you, while your father is doing the unthinkable to the Avengers, the ones he holds responsible for your situation. You sink deeper into the darkness as time passes you by, until a miracle happens.But this miracle comes with a steep price.





	Lovely, Deep, and Dark

 

“Good morning, Miss Ross.”

Betty smiled at the nurse—Anastasia was her name—and made her way down the hall. Anastasia hurried to catch up with her and spoke softly.

“Dr. Palmer is here. She’s in with your sister now.”

Betty stopped walking, turning to look at the nurse.

“Palmer? I thought we agreed on Dr. Strange.”  
“Palmer is his colleague.”  
“That doesn’t—“  
“Miss Ross?”

Betty closed her eyes, letting out a breath before laying a hand to her chest. When she looked back to the nurse, Anastasia gave her a soft smile.

“Dr. Strange is a big gun. You don’t want to call out the big gun unless you really need it.”

Betty crossed her arms over her chest.

“And Palmer is … what, a little gun?”

Anastasia smiled.

“She’s the one who can tell us whether we need to call out the big gun or not.”

Betty sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. She nodded, then began walking down the hall again, with Anastasia right beside her. They stopped at the door to the intensive care unit, and Anastasia typed in the code to open the door. Betty walked through the doors once they’d opened, then stopped at a small sink to tie her hair up and wash her hands. She slid a yellow paper gown over her clothes, slipped blue gloves onto her hands, and let Anastasia cover her hair with a blue paper cover. Betty closed her eyes as Anastasia fit a mask over her mouth and nose and once it was tied, she nodded. Anastasia pressed a button and the sliding doors of a patient room opened.

Betty gave a shaky sigh, heart thudding in her chest when she looked at the bed. Three weeks and it still jolted her to see you like this. Betty glanced away from the bed and met the blue eyes studying her, an iPad in the woman’s hands. Betty gave her a nod.

“I’m Betty Ross. This is my little sister.”

The eyes, nearly the only thing visible over the mask covering the woman’s face, went soft.

“Christine Palmer. I’m a colleague of—“  
“I’m sorry, Dr. Palmer. I don’t want to be rude, but … we asked for Dr. Strange. Dr. Stephen Strange. We were told he is the best, and he is supposed to be the one to take my sister’s case.”

Christine gave a slow nod of her head.

“Dr. Strange is … very busy. He simply could not leave the hospital to make this trip. But I work very closely with him and I assure you, I am going over your sister’s case with a fine-tooth comb.”

Betty sighed, hanging her head before stepping to the bed. She reached down and took your hand, giving it a squeeze, closing her eyes when she felt nothing in return.

“Miss Ross—“  
“Betty, please.”

Christine nodded.

“Betty … could you tell me what happened? I mean, I’ve read her chart, but I … I want to hear it from you.”

Betty sighed, laying your hand back on the bed and crossing her arms over her chest.

“It was an accident.”

Christine nodded.

“What kind of accident?”

Betty turned away from her, looking out the window at the drizzling rain. She closed her eyes, that sick feeling coming over her when she thought about what to say.

_“It was an accident. If you’d just touch Wanda’s hands, she can—“_  
“I’m not getting anywhere near her or any of them. You steer clear of them, too.”  
“Dad, please, just—“

_Thaddeus’ eyes flashed as he stepped closer, crowding Betty until her back hit the wall._

_“No more. The Avengers will not touch my daughter—either of my daughters—ever again. I don’t even want them mentioned around Y/N.”  
“What are we supposed to say?”_

Betty swallowed, giving a shaky breath before answering the way her father had coached.

“A car accident. She always wears her seatbelt, but she … I don’t know. They said her phone was in her purse in the backseat, so maybe she unbuckled to try to get it? That’s all I can think of. The impact threw her forward, and she hit the steering wheel, which … that gave her the, um …”  
“Blunt force trauma.”

Betty nodded.

“Blunt force trauma to the chest and abdomen.”

She closed her eyes, squaring her shoulders before she schooled her expression and turned to face Christine again, speaking from memory now.

“Both of her lungs collapsed, so they had to insert tubes on either side of her chest. Her pelvis is broken, as are two vertebrae in her back, but her spinal cord appears to be intact. However, she hasn’t moved for us to test that.”

Betty bit the inside of her cheek, then continued.

“She has a grade three laceration to her liver, but they repaired it. They had to remove her spleen and one of her kidneys, but the other kidney is working fine.”

Christine nodded, and Betty crossed her arms over her chest before she went on.

“Once they stabilized her and did all the surgery they needed to, they put her in a medically-induced coma to help her stay still long enough to allow her spine to heal. But then her … her brain started swelling and they had to do surgery to release the pressure and … now she’s in a coma they can’t wake her from.”

Betty huffed out a breath.

“Dr. Palmer, I don’t know, okay? I’m a scientist. I deal with cells, not … brains. Not bodies like this. I’m out of my element here.”

Betty blinked back the tears that came to her eyes.

“This is my baby sister. I just …”

Betty sniffled.

“I need you to fix her, please.”

Christine slowly nodded her head, stepping closer to the bed. She studied your sleeping form, then gave another nod.

“Give me a few minutes. I need to make a call.”

Betty nodded and Christine left the room. Betty let her shoulders fall and hung her head, trying and failing to blink back the tears. She walked to the chair beside your bed, sitting down and taking your hand.

“I’m sorry. Honey, I am so, so sorry. I never …”

Betty sniffled, then leaned over, whispering softly as she slowly caressed your cheek with the back of her gloved fingers.

“I couldn’t tell her the truth. Dad’s … god, Y/N. Dad’s lost it. He’s rounded up all the Avengers he could find and arrested them. They had to drag Steve out of here. Natasha was literally kicking and screaming until they tased her. And then the press conference …”

Betty sighed, staring at the white bandages covering your head.

“Dad has forbidden anyone to even mention the Avengers anymore. The car accident scenario was his idea. I mean, it’s plausible. Your injuries  _could_ have happened from a car crash.”

Betty sighed, shaking her head.

“And if anybody can fix you, it’s Dr. Strange. He’s the best.”

Betty gave a soft laugh.

“I know, I know. What the hell kind of name is that for a doctor, right? It’s like one being named Dr. Hurt or Dr. Pain.”

Betty sighed as she gently cupped your cheek in her hand.

“As soon as Dr. Palmer comes back, we’ll get some answers. And hey, if Strange does agree to the surgery? He works out of Metro General in New York. I doubt he’d be bothered to fly here. He’s got a bit of a reputation, but that happens when you’re the best. And you love New York City.”

Tears came back to Betty’s eyes and she hung her head. She sniffed and lifted her head as Christine walked back into the room. She glanced at the monitors beside your bed, studying the steady beeps that had driven Betty crazy at first, but that she had now grown accustomed to. Christine nodded, then met Betty’s eyes.

“I went over your sister’s case and he’s agreed to do the surgery.”

Betty closed her eyes, and Christine went on.

“We’ll have to set up transport to get your sister to Metro Gen, but as long as her numbers stay this good, we could have her there tomorrow.”

Betty’s eyes widened, but she nodded.

“Great. That … that’s great.”

Christine gave her a nod.

“I’ll start getting everything set up.”  
“Dr. Palmer?”

Christine turned back and Betty gave her a smile, tears gathering in her eyes again.

“Thank you.”

Christine nodded again, then left the room. Betty smiled as she leaned over, fingers gently touching your cheek again.

“Did you hear that? New York, New York, here we come.”

Betty’s smile slowly slid from her face as the tears came more forcefully, and she leaned over, gently kissing your bandaged forehead through the mask on her face. Then, she laid her head on your bed as she cried.

* * *

 

Two days later in New York, Betty paced another waiting room as Dr. Strange worked his magic on you. She prayed with every step she took, glancing up at every person who walked by, hoping one would be her father.

But he didn’t show.

His secretary had finally answered one of her calls a few days ago, just to tell her that he was being kept up-to-date with Y/N’s condition. He simply could not take the time to be there, because all they would do was wait, and he was very busy.

Busy prosecuting the Avengers.

Betty sighed, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared out the window, wondering what was happening in both your surgery and with the trials.

Thaddeus had used all of his pull as Secretary of State to put the Avengers on trial now, instead of dealing with the usual delay in court proceedings. Wanda Maximoff and Sam Wilson had been prosecuted first, and were both found guilty. Betty had watched in shock as Wanda and Sam were completely railroaded, not even able to even speak a word to try and defend themselves, the guilty verdicts handed down as soon as possible.

Betty had a sick feeling that these “trials” were nothing but a laughable formality, nothing but a media circus, since everyone was already guilty and deserving of punishment in Thaddeus’  eyes.  

The trials had stopped being televised when, after an almost clueless Scott Lang had been declared guilty, Clint Barton started yelling words Betty had never even heard before, causing the censors to go berserk and the trials to be taken off the air.

News outlets were still reporting, and Betty pulled her vibrating phone from her pocket to see a notification from a news app that a decision had been made to try the rest of the Avengers as a group, and they had overwhelmingly been declared guilty. Except for Tony Stark, who had apparently gone into hiding.

Betty blew out another breath, propping her elbow on the windowsill and resting her head on her hand.

“Miss Ross?”

Betty lifted her head to see Christine Palmer before her in dark blue scrubs, a tall man standing next to her. Betty walked to them and Christine introduced them.

“Betty Ross, this is Dr. Stephen Strange.”

Betty nodded, holding out a hand for Dr. Strange to shake. She pressed her lips together, and he began to speak.

“Miss Ross, your sister’s case is a remarkable one.”

Betty blinked and he continued.

“The injuries she sustained … I’m going to be honest with you. She should be dead right now.”

Christine closed her eyes, blowing out a breath. Betty lifted a hand to her throat and he nodded.

“I know it’s hard to think that way, but … she’s a fighter. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anyone with a spirit like hers. I believe the surgery was a success, but we won’t know for sure until she wakes up and can tell us herself.”

Betty couldn’t stop the smile, and she nodded as tears filled her eyes.

“When … when can I see her?”

Christine spoke softly.

“She’s in recovery now, and she’ll be in the intensive care unit for at least a week.”

Betty nodded, and Christine laid a hand on her arm.

“I’ll send a nurse to come and get you as soon as Y/N is ready.”

Betty nodded again, sniffling before she spoke.

“Thank you. Dr. Strange, thank you for everything.”

He nodded, shaking her hand again before turning and walking back down the hall. Christine shook her head and Betty gave a soft laugh.

“She’s going to be okay.”  
“I’m sorry for him. He’s …”  
“A man. I’m used to it.”

Christine gave a soft laugh, and Betty nodded.

“Thank you so much, Dr. Palmer.”

Christine smiled, patting Betty’s shoulder before she walked away. Betty closed her eyes, letting her head fall back as she sighed, relief flowing through her veins.

* * *

 

“I don’t understand.”

Christine shook her head.

“Honestly … neither do I.”

Betty swallowed, staring down at the bed, at your unmoving form. Christine stepped to the monitors, looking from the screen to the chart in her hands.

“These numbers are good. There’s no clinical reason as to why she hasn’t woken up yet.”

Betty pressed her lips together, shaking her head.

“You said this procedure would work.”  
“I said it  _could_ work. As Dr. Strange and I both went over with you, this was an experimental procedure.”

Betty shook her head again, looking to the doctor.

“So … so now what? We just … we just sit and wait?”  
“Your sister’s injuries were … catastrophic. Maybe her body just needs some time to heal. It’s not unusual for individuals with traumatic brain injuries to need more time and rest than others.”

Betty swallowed.

“This is a traumatic brain injury?”

Christine sighed, but nodded.

“As soon as Dr. Strange visualized her brain, he made the call.”

Betty closed her eyes.

“What is she going to be like when she wakes up? Will she … will she be able to talk? Will she know who I am?”

Christine slowly shook her head, sorrow and pity in her eyes.

“I don’t know. We won’t know how extensive the damage was until she wakes up.”

Betty ran a hand over her face, then sighed.

“Then I guess we’ll wait.”

* * *

 

“You know, I’ve always wondered what a blackout would look like across New York. All those lights in all those buildings. ‘Hello, darkness, my old friend.’”

Betty gave a soft laugh as she lifted a hand to touch the window. Pulling the cardigan she’d borrowed from you long ago and never returned closer around her, she glanced over her shoulder to smile at you.

“Hey, do you remember the time the network did a blackout crossover? It was like a whole night of it on a couple different shows. The blackout started on … god, what show was it?  _Mad About You_ , maybe? And then it carried over into  _Friends_.”

She turned from the window, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You loved it. You’ve always loved corny gimmicks like that. You laughed so much.”

The smile slid from her face as she walked to your bed, gripping the railing and leaning over until she was almost in your face.

“I want to hear you laugh again. Wake up. Y/N Ross, do you hear me? Wake up right now. This is has gone on long enough. We’ve been here a month. How much sleep do you need?”

Betty waited for you to respond, and when you remained still, your only movement the steady rise and fall of your chest, Betty let go of the rail, sitting down in the chair beside your bed and putting her head in her hands.

* * *

 

Betty sat in the chair, holding one of your hands in hers. The risk of infection was significantly lower now, so she wasn’t as decked out in hospital attire as she had been. She still wore the gown and the hair cover and the gloves, but not the mask anymore.

“Dad’s pitching a fit to get you back to D.C. I’ve tried to tell him you need to stay where your doctor is, but it’s not like we ever see Strange. Palmer’s been here every day, though.”

Betty sighed.

“She’d probably be relieved to get rid of us.”

Betty gently caressed your hand as she spoke.

“The orthopedic surgeon came by this morning, said you’re healing nicely. No surgeries needed for your pelvis or spine. You’ve still got the reflexes you’re supposed to have, or … something like that. I didn’t really pay much attention.”

Betty looked up to your face, shaking her head.

“Honey, it’s been almost four months since the accident. Why aren’t you waking up? What are you waiting for?”

Betty stopped, blinking hard.

_Steve_.

He had to be what you were waiting for.

The only problem is, thanks to your father, Steve and the rest of the Avengers were imprisoned somewhere unknown to the public, and since Thaddeus refused to talk about the Avengers around you, Betty had no idea where they were either. The most horrifying thing to Betty was the way Thaddeus was somehow slowly—successfully— erasing the Avengers from history. All their good deeds had been swept under the rug, and any mention of the Avengers were cast in a negative light, and Thaddeus used every chance he could to bring up the immense devastation they’d caused.

Once the trials had ended, Stark Industries almost went under, until Pepper Potts, the new CEO, announced a humanitarian partnership with the people of Sokovia to help rebuild. When King T’Chaka of Wakanda gave her his support, Stark Industries’ stocks slowly crept back up.

Betty looked to your face, speaking softly.

“I don’t know where he is, honey. I’ve tried to find him. I’ve tried to get him here. I thought Dad was going to throw  _me_ in jail when I asked him to let Steve come and see you.”

Betty swallowed.

“Y/N, you’re the only one who can set this right. Dad’s on the warpath because you’re his baby, but if you just wake up and talk to him …”

You didn’t make any sort of movement, nothing but the steady rise and fall of your chest as you breathed. Betty closed her eyes, lifting your hand to press it against her forehead.

* * *

 

“I hope the ride wasn’t too bad. I know they had to keep the pace of a turtle because of the snow.”

Betty shook her head as she fussed with the pillows on your bed.

“I know, it’s too early in the year for snow, but tell that to the meteorologists. Oh wait, they don’t make the weather, do they? They just predict it.”

Betty blew out a breath and shook her head. She pulled a chair closer to the bed and pulled the blankets back, revealing one of your legs. She started gently massaging your muscles as she spoke.

“I know you’re probably wondering why we brought you back here. Dr. Strange had a terrible accident. They weren’t sure if he was going to make it, but he did. He just … if what I heard was true, he’ll never be able to do surgery again.”

Betty shook her head, moving her hands to your calf.

“Dr. Palmer came and spoke to me a few days ago, filled me in as best she could. Company line, and all that. She said there was nothing more they could do and released you from their care, signed off to let me bring you home. Dad’s pleased about that, I know. Not that he’d come around to tell you.”

Betty rolled her eyes.

“I’m so … I’m angry with him. He hasn’t been to see you not once. I’m the one who’s always here. I’m the one who’s taking care of you, trying to make sure all of your damn muscles don’t atrophy.”

Betty hung her head, laying your leg back down before putting her face in her hands.

“I’m sorry. Honey, I am so, so sorry.”

She leaned over you, taking one of your hands in hers.

“I’m not mad at you. None of this is your fault. I’m just sick to death of Dad acting like he’s our hero when he hasn’t even stepped foot into the hospital. Gives some bullshit excuse about how he can’t bear to see you like this. And he thinks I can? That I enjoy this?”

She shook her head, then sighed. She looked back to you and pitched her voice lower.

“He doesn’t know about what we did. When you made me your power of attorney and vice versa. He thinks he’s making all these decisions, but he’s not. It’s me. They come to me and I’m the one who takes care of you, and when you wake up, I’m going to be sure you know that.”

Betty blew out a breath, sitting back in her chair and tucking her hair behind her ears. After a moment, she stood up, dragging her chair across the room to the other side of your bed, picking up your other leg and starting to massage it.

“Oh, and you’re not sick enough to be put back into the ICU. That’s a good thing, but now we have to break in some new nurses.”

She laughed, moving her hands up your calf.

“Anastasia still comes by to visit, though. But I think the new nurses’ name is Grace. She’s really nice. And you’ve got a cute night nurse. A male nurse, and I have to say, I’m a little jealous when he starts massaging on you. Have you noticed how I come around more at night now?”

Betty wiggled her eyebrows, glancing up, the smile slipping from her face when she saw your eyes closed, no movements except your chest as your breathed. Betty blinked, shaking her head, focusing on massaging your leg.

* * *

 

“What do you think, Grace? Cajun Shrimp or I’m Not Really A Waitress?”  
“If we’re going solely based on names, I’m Not Really A Waitress is amazing.”

Betty laughed, picking up the bottle of nail polish remover. She wet a cotton ball with it, then rubbed it over your fingernail, removing the dark purple polish she’d painted nearly two weeks ago.

“OPI is my favorite because they come up with the best names.”

Grace made a few notes on the chart she carried in her hands, then licked her lips.

“Miss Ross?”  
“Yeah.”

Betty dipped the brush back into the polish, carefully painting one of your fingernails in the deep red polish. In the silence, she glanced up at the nurse, then sat back in her chair.

“What is it?”

Grace sighed.

“A social worker is going to come by later to talk to you about long-term care.”

Betty blinked.

“What do you … I mean, are we there yet?”  
“It’s been seven months since the accident. There’s really nothing more we can do for her here in the hospital.”  
“So … what? They want to put her …”

Betty shook her head and Grace sighed.

“There are some excellent long-term care facilities in the tri-State area.”

Betty closed her eyes.

“Nursing homes.”

Grace glanced away and Betty shook her head.

“I can’t do that.”  
“Miss Ross—“  
“I can’t do that to my baby sister who is only in her late twenties. I’m sorry.”

Betty lifted her head.

“No, you know what? I’m not sorry. She’s not going anywhere. And whoever it is that’s coming to talk to me about it? You better tell them to steer clear of me. It’s not happening.”

Grace opened her mouth, closing it again when Betty picked the polish up again and went back to painting your nails.

* * *

 

“Happy Halloween, pumpkin head.”

Betty shifted the plastic pumpkin on the table, turning the painted jack-o-lantern towards your bed. She took the witches’ hat off her head, setting it beside the pumpkin. She walked to you and smiled as she bent down to study your face.

“They came in and got you, huh? The eyeliner looks like it ends in spiderwebs at the corners of your eyes.”

She pursed her lips and smiled.

“I may have to copy that myself for the ball tonight.”

Betty blew out a breath, shaking her head as she took her seat in the chair beside your bed. She took your hand, smiling at the orange polish on your nails, the smiling triangles making a jack-o-lantern on your middle finger.

“Dad’s making me go to this shindig tonight. Some fundraiser for some … thing I don’t know or care much about. He wants me to go and charm everyone, but how am I supposed to do that when I feel the exact opposite of charming?”

She shook her head, rubbing your palm with her thumbs, moving her hand to grip and massage your wrist.

“I just want to stay here with you. I don’t want to be around Dad or people or anybody but …”

She swallowed, glancing over her shoulder before leaning closer to you and whispering softly.

“I spoke with Bruce. I’ve been trying to call him ever since the debacle with the trials. They’re searching for him, but not too intensely. He already knew about everything and he’s trying to keep a low profile, but God knows how that’ll work when the Other Guy’s always threatening.”

Betty shook her head.

“He was talking about Siberia, or a remote village in the Andes that he’d found. Said he didn’t know when he’d be able to talk to me again.”

Betty shook her head again, pushing a hand through her hair.

“Honestly, the less I know is probably better.”

She blinked back tears and gave a shaky sigh.

“Why is this so hard? Why can’t Dad just chill the fuck out? Why can’t you wake up?”

You didn’t respond, and she shook her head, laying your hand back on the bed and sitting back in her chair.

* * *

 

“Ugh, these green beans taste like shit.”

Betty shook her head, spitting the bite she’d just taken into a napkin and tossing it into the trashcan. She nodded towards you and picked her fork back up.

“The turkey’s good. A little dry, but … that just means someone didn’t babysit it like they should have. Remember when you did that a couple years ago? You got up … what was it? Every two hours to baste that bird?”

Betty shook her head again, a smile on her face.

“It was so good, though. You and I were pigs that day. Especially when Dad bailed on us at the last minute. I thought you were going to throw it all away and cry and we could get drunk, but you didn’t. You and I ate more than our fair shares, then you packed the leftovers up and we took them to the homeless shelter down from your store.”

Betty glanced down, that soft smile still on her face.

“You kept a plate behind, that I assumed was for Dad, even though he didn’t deserve it. But … it was for Steve, wasn’t it?”

She looked at your face, the bruises finally faded, not even a single scar visible on your face or hands, your long lashes almost brushing your cheekbone. She smiled, reaching over to grip your hand.

“Happy Thanksgiving, little sister. I miss you.”

* * *

 

“What do you think? Maybe a little to the left?”

Betty walked to stand beside your bed, tilting her head to the side before nodding.

“Little to the left.”

She walked back over and moved the tree slightly, walking to stand beside your bed again.

“Better.”

She walked to the box she’d brought, which was full of red and silver and gold decorations. She shook her head and moved from the box, picking up her phone and tapping until music began softly coming through the speaker. She laid the phone on your torso, humming along as she pulled a long piece of garland from the box.

“I wanted to bring in a real, live ten-footer, but I thought Grace might freak. Plus, it would have to be like bent in half to fit in here.”

Betty checked her watch and smiled, setting the garland down and grabbing the remote control for the television. She turned it on, flipping through channels before stopping on one.

“Look, honey. It’s Charlie Brown. That’s your favorite.”

Betty sat in the chair beside your bed, smiling as the Peanuts gang was ice skating, singing that Christmastime is here. Tears came to her eyes and she sniffled, reaching over to take your hand.

“I need you to wake up, because I will stand up and dance all by myself to the music. Think I won’t?”

Betty turned in her chair, tears slipping down her face as she held tightly to your hand. She reached over and brushed your hair back.

“I don’t know what to do, honey. They keep pushing to move you to another facility and I keep pushing back. But I … I don’t know. Maybe we should move you.”

She shook her head.

“Dad won’t take my calls. I talk to his damn secretary more than I talk to him. It’s almost Christmas and he’s in Istanbul or something. Whatever. I really don’t want to be around him anyway.”

She sighed, looking back to your face.

“This would be so much easier if you’d just wake up.”

You didn’t make any movements, save for the steady rise and fall of your chest. Betty pushed a hand through her hair, sniffing before she wiped that hand over her face. She forced a smile, lifting your hand to her cheek.

“Merry Christmas, baby sis. I miss you.”

* * *

 

“Welp, I did it.”

Betty walked into the room, setting her purse on the table. She shrugged her coat off, brushing the snow from her hair, draping the coat over the chair.

“Did what, you may ask? I’m so glad you did.”

Betty giggled as she dragged the chair closer to your bed, taking your hand.

“You’re so warm. It’s frigid outside.”

She sniffed, then smiled.

“Anyway, back to me. Dad sent me a fucking invitation to the governor’s ball for tonight. New Year’s Eve, you know? I had to RSVP, and I did. Told them no.”

She shrugged her shoulders.

“I wanted to tell them how their precious Secretary of State who milks the ‘grieving father’ routine every chance he gets has been by to see you all of one time in the year you’ve been here.”

Betty shook her head and sighed.

“I sent an email back that I ‘respectfully decline’ the invitation. Guess Dad will find out when he goes tonight.”

Betty smiled.

“I asked Frank to bend the rules a little bit tonight and he agreed. I’m sticking around ‘til next year with you.”

Betty let out a laugh, the smile slipping from her face.

“And I … I talked with Grace and Anastasia and a few of the other nurses. Couple of the doctors who do rounds on you. We think … we think it’s best if we move you to a long-term care facility.”

She gave a ragged sigh, shaking her head.

“It’s not a nursing home. It’s not. I’ve been searching and I think I found a good one for you.”

Tears came to her eyes and she shook her head.

“They say it’s unlikely that you’ll ever wake up. I mean, miracles happen, but … I’m sure there are sick people who could use this bed. So on January second, we’ll be moving.”

Betty made herself smile, blinking as she sighed. She lifted her other hand to rub at her eyes, using it to cover her mouth as she stared at you.

* * *

 

“Okay, honey bun. Five minutes to midnight. Wait, isn’t that a song?”

Betty shook her head, putting a hat on her head and sticking a noisemaker in her mouth. She gently placed a hat on the top of your head, smiling as she ran her hands through your silky-smooth hair.

“Okay. Get ready, because I want the nurses running in and telling us to shut up.”

Betty giggled, turning her attention back to the television, watching the celebration in Times Square.

“Rest in peace, Dick Clark.”

She rolled the noisemaker to the other side of her mouth and shot a smile back your way.

“Two minutes!”

Betty blinked,  eyebrows furrowing when she noticed your arm resting across your torso. She shook her head.

“Wasn’t your arm just by your side?”

You, of course, didn’t answer her, and Betty sighed, rubbing a hand over her eyes.

“I’m getting too old for this, I’m afraid.”

She yawned, then laughed softly, eyes widening when the countdown began on the television.

“Here we go! Ten, nine, eight, seven—“

Betty yawned again, laughing as she shook her head.

“Three, two, one! Happy New Year!”

Betty blew her noisemaker, holding it between her teeth as she looked back at the bed. She gasped as the noisemaker fell out of her mouth, eyes wide.

“Y/N?”

Betty’s entire body trembled as she laid her hands on your bed, leaning down. You blinked slowly, and tears filled her eyes.

“Oh my god.”

Your eyes locked onto hers and your lips slowly curved into a smile. Betty shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“You … Y/N. Oh my god. You’re awake.”  
“Hap … happy new year, Betty.”

Betty gave a sob at your hoarse voice. You hadn’t used it in a year, so it was really no surprise at the low, hoarse tone. Betty shook her head, smiling through the tears.

“Oh, sweetheart. Hi.”  
“Hi.”

Betty laughed, reaching to grab your hand. You gave her hand a weak squeeze and she shook her head again. You gave a long exhale, closing your eyes. After a few seconds, you opened your eyes again, shaking your head.

“What happened?”  
“Do you know where you are?”  
“It … looks like … a hospital.”

Betty nodded.

“Let me call the nurse.”  
“Betty.”

She looked over and met your eyes, and she gave a shaky laugh as tears slid down her cheeks. She gave your hand a squeeze and nodded, smiling when she met your eyes again.

“I’m so glad to see you.”

* * *

 

Frank stepped back, dropping the penlight into his pocket, shaking his head.

“It’s remarkable.”

You blinked, looking over to your sister. Betty stood with one arm on her torso, the thumb on her other hand running across her plump lips. You looked back to Frank, who bent to where you and he were face-to-face. He smiled at you and you smiled in return. His voice was soft and gentle when he spoke.

“Can you tell me your name?”  
“Y/N Ross.”  
“What year is it?”

You shook your head.

“I don’t … I’m not sure. It’s New Year’s today, right?”

Frank nodded.

“Where do you live?”  
“Washington, D.C. Is that where we are?”

Frank nodded.

“Who is this?”

He pointed across the room and you smiled.

“That’s my big sister. Betty Ross. Elizabeth, if we’re being technical.”

Betty gave a watery laugh, putting her face in her hands. Frank nodded as he stood up, walking over to pat Betty on the shoulder.

“I’m going to go wake up her docs and let them know she’s awake and lucid.”  
“This is …”  
“Nothing short of a miracle, Miss Ross. Both Miss Rosses. Excuse me.”

Betty nodded, and Frank left the room. Betty looked back to you and you smiled.

“He’s cute.”

Betty laughed.

“Yeah, we’ve had coffee once or twice.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Go, big sister.”

Betty shook her head, walking to sit beside your bed. You moved your hand and she took it, holding it tightly. You took in a breath, letting it out slowly.

“What happened to me?”

Betty swallowed, shaking her head.

“You don’t remember?”

You shook your head.

“No.”  
“What’s the last thing you do remember?”  
“Elizabeth, is it true? She—“

You and Betty looked to the door, seeing your father come to a hard stop in the doorway. His eyes were wide as he stared at you, and your lips curved into a smile.

“Hey there, General.”

Thaddeus blinked, staggering forward and gripping the end of your bed.

“Y/N?”

You nodded.

“Hey, Dad.”

He closed his eyes, moving to the opposite side of the bed from Betty, sitting on the edge. He reached out a shaky hand and took hold of yours, blinking furiously.

“When … when did you wake up?”  
“When the clock struck midnight. It’s poetic, really.”

You gave a soft laugh at Betty’s words, giving her hand a squeeze. Thaddeus shook his head.

“And you’re okay?”

You slowly nodded.

“What year is it?”

You rolled your eyes, looking to Betty, and she smiled.

“Dad, she  _just_ woke up. And on New Year’s, at that. She’s still trying to gain her bearings.”  
“Well, who’s the president, then?”  
“Your boss.”

Thaddeus nodded at your answer, and you gave a sigh.

“Now, can someone please explain to me what happened as to why I’m in here and why people keep asking me weird questions?”

Betty swallowed as Thaddeus turned to face you.

“You don’t remember?”

You shook your head.

“No, I … my head’s starting to hurt.”

Thaddeus nodded, moving to cover your hand with his.

“You were in an accident, honey.”  
“An accident?”

He nodded.

“It was … terrible. Horrific. You had massive internal injuries, head trauma. You’ve been in a coma for a year now.”

Your eyes widened, blinking a few times before you shook your head.

“A year?”

Thaddeus nodded, and Betty did the same when you looked to her. You leaned back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling.

“What … what does that mean?”  
“What, honey?”

You looked to Betty.

“My … I’ve been out for a year?”

Betty nodded.

“What does that mean for school?”

Betty tilted her head to the side.

“What school?”  
“College. I’m … am I still going to graduate on time? If I lost a year, then … that’s two semesters, right?”

Betty sat up straighter, sharing a look of concern with your dad. You looked from one to the other, shaking your head.

“What?”

Betty blinked, scooting to the edge of her chair.

“Honey, what year is it?”  
“Betty, you said it earlier. It’s New Year’s. And if I’ve apparently been out for a year, then …”

Betty looked at your dad and you shook your head.

“2007? 2008?”

Betty’s mouth dropped open and Thaddeus ran a hand down his face. You looked from one of them to the other, shaking your head again.

“What? What is it? What’s wrong?”

Betty licked her lips, speaking softly.

“How old are you, sweetie?”

You narrowed your eyes, and she smiled.

“Just humor me, honey.”  
“I’m twenty-one. Well… twenty-two now? Or …”

You swallowed, shaking your head and Betty gently patted your hand.

“Easy, sweetheart. Just take it easy.”  
“What’s going on?”

Thaddeus stood up, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

“Dad?”

He swallowed, then looked to you and gave you a soft smile.

“You, uh … sweetheart.”  
“What?”  
“It’s 2016.”

You blinked, looking over to Betty, who gave you a gentle smile. You shook your head.

“No, it … no.”

Betty pulled out her phone, your eyes widening when you saw it, blinking until she pulled up her calendar app and showed you the date. You shook your head again, looking from Betty to your father.

“Eight years? I don’t … I can’t remember the last eight years?”

There was a knock at the door, and Betty’s eyes widened when she saw Christine Palmer.

“Well hello, Miss Ross. It’s nice to see you awake.”

Betty stepped up and whispered to Christine, who nodded, then smiled at Betty and your father.

“If you’ll just excuse us for a minute, I’ve got some tests to run.”

They nodded, stepping out into the hall, leaving you in Christine’s capable hands.

* * *

 

In a room down the hall, Betty shook her head, fingers touching her lips. Thaddeus stood with his back against the wall, watching Betty as she paced back and forth.

“Elizabeth, will you calm down?”

Betty gave a harsh laugh.

“‘Calm down?’ You want me to calm down? Dad, she’s missing eight whole years of her life. Details that I can’t exactly fill her in on.”  
“You won’t be ‘filling her in’ on anything.”

Betty went still, glancing over her shoulder.

“What?”

Thaddeus shrugged.

“Don’t you see? This is … a miracle.”  
“Dad.”  
“She doesn’t remember Rogers or any of the rest of them. What she remembers is even before Stark became such a pain in my ass. We can keep it that way and protect her from any—“  
“ _Protect_ her?”

Betty shook her head, stepping closer to him.

“I know you hate him, Dad, but she loves him.”  
“No, she doesn’t  _know_ him.”  
“And you think that won’t change? You think she won’t eventually remember him?”  
“There’s no guarantee she will.”  
“There’s no guarantee she won’t! Dad, she will  _never_ forgive us if we keep him from her.”

Thaddeus turned his head to meet Betty’s eyes, a cold, calculating stare in his eyes.

“Elizabeth, let me make myself perfectly clear. If you ever breathe one word of Rogers or any of those …  _degenerates_ to Y/N, I will personally make sure you never see her again.”

Betty’s eyes widened.

“Dad.”  
“I don’t want to do it, Betty. I know how much she loves you. I don’t want to have to separate the two of you.”

Betty’s eyes filled with tears as Thaddeus stepped closer.

“But make no mistake. I will do whatever it takes to keep my daughter safe.”

He turned to leave the room and Betty spoke, her voice barely a whisper.

“I’m your daughter, too.”

Thaddeus nodded, turning back to look at her.

“Don’t ever forget that.”

He walked out of the room and Betty held out an arm, grabbing onto the armrest as she sank into a chair. She covered her mouth with a hand, shaking her head and closing her eyes as the tears fell.

 


End file.
